


Shurikens and Spells

by Lewdsmokesoldier



Series: Genji/Angela [4]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Junkenstein's Revenge, Mildly Dubious Consent, Romance, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-16
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2019-08-24 16:25:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16643651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lewdsmokesoldier/pseuds/Lewdsmokesoldier
Summary: (Alternative version of a previous work with different vocabulary)After the Witch’s third attack on Adlersbrunn, the defenders have elected to preemptively stop her next assault. Following the counsel of the Monk, the Swordsman ventures off into the Black Forest to track down the Witch and put an end to her one-on-one, but when he’s ambushed by her magic, he may find that the tables have turned.





	1. Shurikens and Spells

**Author's Note:**

> This particular version is meant to be more similar to my first Gency work, “Summer Loving”, with less crude language and some other vocabulary and stylistic changes. This should help the story feel less like straight-up porn, and more like a tale that just happens to include lots of sex. Alternative version can be found on this site or my blog.

The defenders of Adlersbrunn breathed a collective sigh of relief. All signs pointed to a halt in the enemy offensive. Try as he might, Doctor Junkenstein and his allies had been repelled for the third year in a row.

And yet the celebrations were muted, the apprehension among the defenders palpable. They could not truly relax, knowing that their enemies still plotted against them and would return the following year. That pattern had been too deeply entrenched for it to change now.

Still, the wanderers were proud of the work they had done. Yet even as most whiled away the time on the Lord’s coin, loosening the worry that kept them taut, a pair found themselves deep in conversation by the balcony overlooking the Black Forest beyond the city’s gates, planning for the future.

“The Witch will not stop. That much is clear by now, my student.” The Monk’s mechanical face betrayed no expression, concealed as it was behind a mass of robotic tentacles. “We must change our strategy if we are to mitigate her future endeavors.”

“What do you suggest, Master?” The Swordsman sat cross-legged before the Monk, the rim of his conical hat tipped in front of his eyes. His scarred lips and whatever emotion they might have betrayed lay hidden behind a metal covering. His black-and-brown gi folded loosely over his form, disguising the injured flesh beneath.

“You are practiced in many arts, my student. Those of subterfuge, espionage, and assassination. In skills that enable you to operate within the darkness.”

The Swordsman nodded. This was not unknown to the others: in fact, his capacity in such endeavors was the very reason he had accompanied his master to Adlersbrunn.

“I want you to employ these skills, my apprentice. As they were _meant_ to be used: out of sight, out of attention. If we are to best the Witch, we cannot play by her rules.” The Monk tilted his head towards the forest beyond.

“I sense you will find her there, my student. But be warned: though she may not be expecting you specifically, she will still be prepared for incursions. Be wary.”

The Swordsman stood. He knew what he had to do and bowed to his master. “It is done.”

* * *

That was how the Swordsman found himself navigating the Black Forest beneath a waning gibbous moon. Whenever the clouds passed across its surface, the muted light softened the shadows cast by the spindly trees, which helped him move from each dark patch to the next more easily and broke his outline whenever he needed to step into the light. The mist hung low, threading between the trees and kept him from seeing more than a few feet in front of him at a time. Wolves howled, crows cawed and the very trees to thrum with a deep-rooted malice as he passed them.

He hadn’t needed to use the full extent of his ninja training in some time. The siege of Adlersbrunn had required agility, yes, but there was a difference between bellowing war cries as he cut down Zomnics with his blade and navigating a hostile environment undetected. Fortunately, the Swordsman’s learning hadn’t left him and he still remembered the important lessons. Stay low, stay fast, stay quiet and stay ready.

Which was why he was so flabbergasted when he sprung the Witch’s trap.

His hand brushed a branch, when suddenly the bark groaned and grew outward, enveloping his fingers in the tree’s flesh. The loss of balance made his foot brush a toadstool, which flashed a kaleidoscope of colors before he found his knees buckling under him. Flustered, the Swordsman reached over to pry his hand free of the tree, but the bark simply grew outward again, trapping his hands together.

The Swordsman was stuck, arms in the tree, legs paralyzed and lying useless against the grass. And with the amount of light and noise he had just made, he was sure that _something_ in the woods would come investigate the commotion.

“Well, well. What have we here?”

He gritted his teeth. It was _her_. Of course it was.

“Where are you? How do you know where I am?” He screamed into the night, hoping his voice could penetrate this unnatural fog. He was past stealth now: all that he could hope for was to escape whole.

“I have eyes and ears all over the forest. And I can be anywhere within my domain in but an instant.” The voice seemed to come from all around him, but the Swordsman took note of the raven watching him with black, beady, too-intelligent eyes from the branch of the tree he was stuck fast to. He should have been more careful: no bird was that attentive.

“I must say, I was not expecting to see any of you again so soon. What is it, I wonder, that has called you out into my woods?”

The Witch revealed herself, melting out of the mist as if she had been there the whole time. The Swordsman’s brow furrowed as he beheld his target.

A pair of bat-like wings were attached to her back, though their shine made the Swordsman guess that they were magical in nature, rather than a natural part of her body. A brown belt wrapped around her waist, with a strap to hold the heavy tome labeled “Vitae”. Her collar was frilled with gold thread, wrapped in a scarlet cloth that rested on the Witch’s shoulders and was held together with a silver button. The space between her scarf and her corset exposed a window of her pale skin,  while a line of buttons held the leather together, dotting the bat-shaped symbol on her front.

The cloth extended downward, falling  between the Witch’s legs on both the front and back of her body, and her feet ended in curled-toe, thigh-high boots studded with circle fasteners.  Brown elbow-length gloves hugged her forearms and black-and-orange torn sleeves hung low on her elbow, while a pair of golden bracelets wrapped around her right wrist. Her broom rested on her left shoulder and as the Witch twirled it, a grin spread across her features. Her gold jack-o-lantern earrings jingled as she leaned towards him, the black witch’s hat on her head staying still despite the changed angle.

She reached out her free hand and held it under his chin, tilting it upward. Pursing her lips, the Witch giggled balefully.

“Have you come to join me? Do you tire of serving that self-obsessed lord, or that withering old Monk? Do you seek a new master, perhaps a _mistress_ instead? What might you offer me?”

“I offer you nothing. I did not venture into this wood to become one of your pawns.” The Swordsman guffawed. Clenching his jaw and turning his head away, he strained against the tree. He could eventually free his hands and then work the numbness out of his legs, but that would require time the Witch would not give him. So instead, the Swordsman cocked his head in her direction and frowned. “If you are going to kill me, let it be done. I will never be your servant.”

The Witch laughed, her chortles escalating into peals of joy as she leaned on her broom and clutched her stomach. The rest of the forest fell eerily silent as her mirth echoed through the mist and trees, the wolves and the crows conceding the night to the Witch’s laughter.

“Oh, my dear, sweet, _honorable_ Swordsman,” The Witch began, grasping his covered chin in her free hand and forcing him to look back at her. “When I am done with you, you will be _begging_ to become my newest servant. You will belong to me, now and forever more.”

A soft golden glow suffused her hand and the Swordsman felt the threatening grip on his chin fade into a pleasant rub as the Witch worked her magic. He felt his muscles relaxing of their own accord and his head listed to the side, the hat slipping off of his hair without a sound. The Witch was still before him, but now that she’d begun to cast her spell, he started to see her in a different light.

The Swordsman paused. Facing her on the  battlefield hadn’t provoked this energy. When observing the Witch  in the chaos of the attack on Adlersbrunn, he hadn’t taken the time to  observe the swell of her hips, the curve of her rear, her exposed thighs, or the way her breasts were cupped by her corset. Her sky-blue eyes radiated malicious glee and her lips were pursed in a confident smirk. The Witch really _was_ beautiful.

Watching his gaze traverse her body and features, the Witch allowed herself to smile.

“There we go. Isn’t that much better, my Swordsman? Now that you’re mine, you can serve me in _every_ capacity. And I am looking for something that I think you will find _very_ enjoyable.”

The bark around the Swordsman’s hands loosened and he felt his fingers slip free of the tree’s grip. His legs, similarly, found their balance once again, but he couldn’t make himself stand, instead leaning forward to rest his back against the tree, arms at his sides. He was still in control of his limbs, but every time he tried to stand, exhaustion sapped his strength.

“What have you done to me, Witch?” The Swordsman growled, raising his arms briefly before giving up and letting them flop to his sides.

“A little magic, my servant. “The Witch smirked down at him, placing her broom down against the tree he was leaning against. “To make you more…pliable. To lower your inhibitions. I expect that you will enjoy the results, my Swordsman.”

She leaned forward, kneeling in front of him as he thoughtlessly spread his legs, and shot her right hand forward, grasping his pelvis through his gi. He hissed, feeling her rub him as he stiffened underneath her touch, through the material. Whether it was her magic or the simple fact that the Witch was a remarkably attractive woman, the Swordsman found himself reacting appropriately.

“Let us see…a little tug here, a little shift there, and…there we go!” The Witch clicked her tongue in satisfaction as his underclothing came off and his length jutted out from the folds of his garments. “That is better, is it not?” She grinned and rubbed his length with a gloved hand, making the skin stretch and shift beneath her fingers.

The Swordsman was thick, long, and heavy in her grip, and the Witch could feel him throbbing as she shifted her hand up and down on his length. He shuddered each time the leather rubbed against the grain of his penis, then sighed in relief as it smoothly slid back towards the head.

“Fascinating. I trust this will serve me well for a _very_ long time. But let us move along.” She tugged on him, one more time, then another, then another, and then he watched as she lowered her head to deliver a long, slow lick up his length, from testicles to tip.

The Witch may have been an evil sorceress, but she certainly knew her way around a man’s shaft.

She looked up at him, making eye contact through her platinum-blonde bangs, and smiled. His eyes told her everything: he was enjoying this, even if he wouldn’t admit it yet. It was time for her to start to break that resolve.

Giggling to herself, the Witch nuzzled into his testicles one more time, then replaced her face with her left hand. Licking her way up, the Witch looked up at him one more time and enclosed her lips around the head of the Swordsman’s penis.

He grunted and she smiled around his length, moved her bangs out of the way and lowered herself further. Her left hand kept kneading testicles, while her right stroked whatever parts of him she didn’t have in her mouth.

The Swordsman, for his part, was content to lie back and enjoy, though he didn’t think his body would have let him move anyway. He couldn’t deny that the Witch looked beautiful bobbing her head up and down on his girth, hat tilting and blonde hair rustling as her nose brushed his pubic hair. She laughed with his length in her mouth, his pubic hair tickling her nostrils, and the vibrations brought a fresh wave of pleasure surging along his shaft. She took him in, rolled his balls in her hand, then came back up and came off with a pop to kiss the head of his length, stroke him, and giggle, only to repeat the process.

Mouth goes down, testes get tugged, mouth goes up, head gets kissed, shaft gets stroked. Rinse and repeat, as it were, though the Witch slobbering up and down his length as she played with his testicles probably wasn’t anyone’s idea of “rinsing”. Still, it was a thoroughly enjoyable experience to get his length worked up and down by her lips, hands, and throat.

The Swordsman had stamina, but the Witch was intent on shattering his will. He had to resist the urge to cum. But she wasn’t going to make it easy, what with her mouth on his shaft and her hand on his testicles.

Now that he thought of it, the Witch was bending over so much that he could see the crook of her rear as the cloth on her back fell between her buttocks, and the tiniest sliver of her right butt cheek…

He groaned, but it was too late. As the sight of her rear entered his head along with the idea of what he could do with it, the Witch began a furious suction motion with him fully in her mouth, her fingers rapidly working his testicles back and forth. She hummed onto his length, and looked up at him. The eye contact sealed the deal as the Swordsman beheld the confident gleam in her gaze.

Strength surged through his arms, and he put one hand on her shoulder and  tangled the other in her hair, beneath the brim of the Witch’s hat. The pressure in his pelvis broke, and the Swordsman came. She started to pull off as the first spurts welled up, but he held her down, forcing her to take another direct shot down her throat before allowing her up part of the way so the next filled her mouth. Pushing her off of him with a pop, he felt one more welling up in him as she kept kneading his testes, and let loose on her face, scattering his seed across her eyebrow, hair, and cheek, with some even hanging down from the brim of her hat.

Still riding high from his orgasm, the Swordsman looked down at the Witch who had just sucked him off. The view was certainly memorable.

Semen was strewn across the Witch’s right eyebrow and cheek, as well as across her hair and the bottom of the front of her hat. A clear bubble of his fluid popped from her left nostril, and her tongue was painted white as she held her mouth open, drooling his ejaculate and her own saliva in equal parts in a semi-constant drip down into her cleavage and onto his pelvis.

The Witch’s blue eyes, however, still shined with glee, even as she closed her mouth and gulped, then held her tongue out to show that she had swallowed his ejaculation. She wasn’t done with him yet.

And frankly, the Swordsman wasn’t sure if _he_ was done with her yet, either.

“A most impressive display.” She conceded, wiping her cheek with a gloved hand and tossing aside the seed that clung to her fingers. Her throat bobbed, and she let out a small belch, a small bubble of the Swordsman’s cum forming between her lips. She popped it with an outstretched finger and winked at him. “But I am not finished with you, my Swordsman.”

She held out the hand, sticky with his ejaculate, and raised it higher, surrounding it with a golden glow. The Swordsman was suddenly aware of how tired he was, though he supposed that he shouldn’t have been surprised given the size of his last orgasm.

“ _Erections never die!”_

As quickly as it had entered him, the exhaustion faded. He felt his arousal rise anew, his length stiffening as if he hadn’t just orgasmed moments before. The sweat beading his forehead and onyx hair, along with the ejaculate clinging to the Witch’s face were now the only tells, although they certainly painted a vivid picture of what had just happened.

“As long as you are mine, you will enjoy boundless carnal energy. I certainly cannot have my faithful Swordsman suffering from something as simple as a refractory period, now can I?”

The Witch rose, steadying herself on her feet.

“What more do you have planned for me, Witch? I will not submit.”

Gripping the cloth that hung down from the front of her clothing in her left hand and picking up his hat from the ground, the Witch smiled. It was a wicked grin, the kind that communicated sadistic joy rather than affection or earned pride, but the Swordsman didn’t feel threatened. Not really.

“Dear Swordsman. You will be mine, in time, though I will not dissuade you from such delusions if that is your desire.”

With that, she lifted the cloth, and the Swordsman suddenly realized that she wasn’t wearing anything underneath. Her golden pubic hair seemed to reflect the half-light of the moon, and he saw a clear drop of her arousal come falling down to the grass without a sound.

Laughing again, the Witch planted his hat back on his head and placed her hands on his shoulders, steadying her legs on either side of his thighs. Lowering herself slowly, she eased past his length, letting his head prod her entrance before moving backwards and sliding her clitoris against his tip.

The Swordsman groaned. The slightest hint of being in her, brought before him only to be taken away.

“Now you are teasing me, Witch. Do you lack the resolve to carry out your threats? If you truly believed yourself capable of making me your servant, you would act more decisively.”

The challenge hung heavy in the air for a moment, rivaled only by the mist all around them. The Witch pursed her lips in a frown for a moment, then let out another giggle.

“Goading me into giving you what you want, Swordsman? You could have just asked. Very well.”

Steadying herself with her hands on his shoulders and lowering her knees to the ground so she was kneeling in front of him, the Witch rubbed her vaginal lips against him one more time before hoisting herself up and working herself down onto the Swordsman’s length.

He let out a rattling sound halfway through a moan and a hiss. The Witch was _tight_ , and she was hot, and he wasn’t sure which was better. He felt her vulva sucking him in, and then she was all around him, clutching at him as he penetrated her further, heat seeping into his shaft.

Their pelvises met with a light clapping sound as the Swordsman hilted himself in the Witch. His cheeks flushed as he realized that, yes, he was having sex the woman he’d been sent to slay. At least he was having fun, he mused, as he brought his hands up to rest on her waist.

The Witch raised an eyebrow at him: even impaled on him, she still exuded the confidence of a woman who knew she’d earned it through her own accomplishments.

“Regaining your strength, I see. Well, then, I expect you to do your part, servant.” Leaning into his grip, the Witch moved one of his hands from her waist onto her rear and thrust her chest into his face. The sudden movement made her breasts pop free of her corset, giving the Swordsman an eyeful of her chest as it swayed, free of its confines. Her breasts were gloriously soft to look upon, dotted with his spent semen and her drool, and he was surprised to notice a small mole dotting both them above her nipples: a tiny imperfection that, somehow, made her breasts that much better to look upon.

Then she shoved them into his face, and he was pleased that they were even softer to the touch. His mouth was covered, but his eyelids fluttered against her skin as her chest filled his vision.

“I will provide direction, but as one of my servants, I expect you to do your own work. Do we have an understanding?”

The Swordsman’s only response was to grunt and knead her right buttock through her clothing. Her breasts jiggled in his face as she laughed and then she raised herself upwards and fell back down on his length. She certainty felt great around him, hugging him tightly on all sides and causing a pleasant friction as her walls rubbed against his unyielding shaft.

They fell into a pattern, if it could be called that: he grabbed her by the rear to lift her up, then let her fall down and bury himself inside of her with a slapping sound. Her breasts chafed against his eyes and face plate, but he didn’t care: she’d be more sore for it than he would, anyways and at this angle he could feel her clitoris smack against the base of his shaft each time she fell down on him, which made her tense and bear down on him that much tighter. Each time the Swordsman felt himself bottom out inside the Witch, she let out a tiny moan, a puff of air onto the top of his head.

The Witch’s soft gasps started to rise in pitch and the pace of her bouncing on his lap began to speed up. He rewarded her increased fervor with a slap on her rear and was rewarded by a whine and the sensation of her tightening around his member. Given how greedily the Witch’s inner walls were sucking at him, the Swordsman figured that she’d earned yet another reward. Fumbling blindly with her swinging breasts still blocking his vision, he moved the hand not on her rear to the base of his penis and curled his finger so that his knuckle faced upward.

Sure enough, the next time the Witch let herself fall onto his length, her clitoris smacked into his outstretched knuckle. Immediately, she let out a keening screech that he was sure could be heard back at Adlersbrunn and came, spasming on him so furiously that he couldn’t help but lose control. The Swordsman joined her, feeling his testicles tense as he unleashed himself inside the Witch. He felt her get even hotter as he clutched at her buttocks, knuckles going as white as he knew he was painting her insides.

She leaned back and the Swordsman got a view of the blonde tuft of her pubic hair, her clitoris pressing against his pelvis and her vaginal lips spread around his girth as he twitched and shot off inside her. The Witch was probably still human, which meant that for all he knew, he’d just put a child in her.

For some reason, he rather enjoyed the idea.

Legs shaking, the Witch started to stand, then fell back down on him. The Swordsman’s seed seeped out from between her legs along with her own, coating his pelvis in their combined orgasmic aftermath.

“Well done. For a new servant, you have performed admirably. Now, just a little bit more…” Her hands glowed golden and the Swordsman felt himself stiffen once more inside her. But more than that, he felt the strength returning to his limbs. Behind her, he twitched his toes, and smiled beneath his mask.

“While that was enjoyable, I do not yet believe that you are-”

The Swordsman cut her off. Lunging forward, length still buried in her, he forced the Witch onto her back with a yelp. His testes swung forward and smacked against her vaginal lips, while her wings spread out beneath her on either side and her legs kicked up in the air. But he held fast, holding his arms on either side of her thighs to lock her from standing up. An expression of shock ghosted across the Witch’s face, but it was gone so quickly that he wasn’t sure that it was ever there.

“Well, I suppose the tables have turned. What will you do with me now, my brave Swordsman?” Her voice took on a tone of mock terror and she pursed her lips in an expression of exaggerated pleading. She raised her right hand to cup his cheek as he glared down at her. “You have your weapon. I am as vulnerable as I will ever be. What are you waiting for?”

The Swordsman hesitated. Yes, he could easily reach over and draw his sword, but something stayed his hand. He didn’t want to end her. Not like this. Although being balls-deep in the Witch was probably affecting his thinking.

She smiled, then quickly returned to pretend-pleading. “You can make me do _anything_ , Swordsman. I was prepared to make you my eternal servant, and now you have reversed our fortunes. What will you ask of me? What will you subject me to, now that I am in your power?”

The Swordsman looked down at the space where his dick was stopped mid-fuck, her vaginal lips still greedily sucking him in as he held himself above her. He looked at her breasts, resting high against her chest, nipples still hardened into peaks. His gaze wandered over to her facial features, allowing him to behold her flushed cheeks, her breath making mist in the cold air, the sweat beading her forehead and the joy shining in her eyes. She was having a great deal of fun. But he had to show that he wasn’t under her power. When he spoke, it was in a low, dangerous tone that brooked no argument.

“Get up and bend over on the grass.”

The Witch couldn’t contain her joy. “As you wish, _master_.”

He slid out of her as she stretched her legs and he stepped backwards to give her space as she turned over onto her stomach. The Witch’s buttocks were still red from where he had smacked her as she got onto her hands and knees, then bent her head forward and presented her rear for him to behold. And while her puffy vulva called for him to re-enter it, the Swordsman had another hole in mind.

He grasped himself in his right hand and stroked, feeling the fluid from his previous orgasm combine with the Witch’s own arousal to form the exact lubrication he was looking for. Leaning over the Witch, the Swordsman placed his left hand on her buttock and used his other to hold himself steady as he prodded her rear entrance, spreading the fluid around her anal ring. He delighted in how she stiffened up under his poking and he tightened his grip on her rear.

“Naughty, _naughty_ boy. If that is what you want, then I suppose I will do my best to enjoy it.”

“If you consider _me_ naughty, then you lack a degree of self-awareness, Witch.” Tilting her head back at him, the Witch smiled and wiggled her rear, inviting him to try again. He obliged, pressing into her again, and with one final push, he felt her anus part around him and suck him inside.

The Swordsman took a breath. If her previous hole had gripped him well, then her rear was a vice, holding him tighter than anything he’d ever experienced. He took care to sink into her slowly, feeling her widen around the head of his length as he got deeper and deeper. The Witch grunted and groaned beneath him as he stretched her out, clawing at the grass, but he persisted in penetrating her back entrance.

His fingers sank deep into her rear and he took his hand off of his shaft to grab her other buttock in an equally tight hold. The Witch was so tight around him, he almost couldn’t keep going forward, but the Swordsman wasn’t going to stop now.

With one final, enraptured push, he sank the last of himself into her rear and groaned in relief as his testicles swung forward and came to a stop against her lower lips. He was in. Now to get a pace going.

“I will not kill you. But you have been, as you would say, _very_ naughty. So perhaps this will teach you a lesson.” The Swordsman didn’t give her a chance to respond, though he figured that she’d be too busy adjusting to his size inside of her to vocalize a response. Leaning back, he secured his grip on her rear and withdrew slowly, drawing out the process.

Just when he felt the crown of his length pressing against her anal ring, indicating that he was almost out of her rear, the Swordsman gave the Witch two powerful slaps on each of her buttocks and shoved himself forward again as she snapped backwards in response to his smacks, thrusting herself back onto his length as he pushed forward.

A howl ripped from the Witch’s throat, and he heard the telltale rattle in her vocalization that told him that she was enjoying this. The Swordsman smiled beneath his mask.

He rocked her back and forth on him, plumbing her and stretching her rear around his girth, enjoying how the force of his thrusts sent ripples along her backside and let him behold how her butt quaked beneath the effort of their intercourse. Whenever he felt her relaxing beneath his pattern, he gave her a pair of quick-but-forceful slaps to her rear, already pert and red from his repeated strikes, forcing her to pay attention.

Although it was probably hard for the Witch to _not_ pay attention to the sizeable intrusion inside her. But the Swordsman wasn’t taking any chances.

The Witch seemed to be in over her head. Not only was she tearing clumps out of the grass, but she was also shoving her face against the dirt as her tongue hung loosely out from her lips, her breasts pressing down and rubbing against the ground from his efforts. The Swordsman couldn’t see her expression, but he could tell from her ragged breathing that her eyes were glassing over from anal-sex-induced euphoria. She was having entirely too much fun getting her anus plowed by one of her enemies, but he couldn’t blame her: he hadn’t foreseen having such enjoyable intercouse with his foe, either.

His hips shot backward and forward like a jackhammer, gaining speed as the Witch’s body was thrust to and fro beneath him. The grip, heat, and sheer naughtiness of being in her backside was bringing the Swordsman to his limit and he felt his climax rising within him. Giving her a final pair of slaps, he  released his grip and instead reached for her wings, leveraging himself to pound her even harder and deeper than before.

“Here it comes, Witch! This is the least you deserve!”

Before she could respond, he let loose, feeling himself spasm as he filled her rear with his ejaculate. Releasing her wings, he returned his hands to her buttocks to hold her fully down onto him, feeling his testicles come to rest against her vaginal lips, only for her to cry out into the dirt and bear down on him suddenly as she enjoyed an anal-induced orgasm. Sputtering and slobbering into the dirt, the Witch shrieked and whined as the Swordsman came powerfully, emptying his seed deep in her bowels.

Bracing himself against the grass, the Swordsman pulled himself out, popping the head past her anus, which winked as he withdrew. Another shot of ejaculate was thrown out across her back, landing on her clothing, in her wings, even draping across the back of her hat and into her blonde hair. Flipping the Witch onto her side, the Swordsman furiously stroked his shaft, letting himself loose wherever he could. A spurt of fluid was flung across her thighs, while another splattered against her pelvis. A third streaked across her breasts and torso, while the final one landed in her open mouth and dripped onto her cheek.

The Swordsman took several deep breaths, hand still on his length, and looked down at the Witch.

She was absolutely _covered_ in his seed. It leaked out of her rear and lower lips and pooled in the grass, while her thighs, torso, breasts and face dripped with his multiple ejaculations. It was even strewn across her shins and forearms, the latter of which were draped across her stomach and under her head.

He supposed that he had her magic to thank for this bounty of semen: under normal circumstances, he certainly wouldn’t have been able to produce so much so close together on his own.The Witch’s expression radiated pure, unadulterated satisfaction. Her gaze was hazy and unfocused, her tongue lolling out of her grinning mouth as she panted. His muscles suddenly felt sore and he fell to his knees across from her, releasing his grip on his length.

“Let that…be a lesson to you…Witch.”

Her vision cleared and she looked across at him, glee shining in her eyes. “A most enjoyable lesson that was, Swordsman. For the both of us, I can see. It may surprise you to know that you were less under my power than you thought. Or would you have me believe that none of that was of your own volition?”

“What…do you mean?” The Swordsman was too tired to follow up, instead gazing blankly across at the Witch.

“Come now. You know how my magic works. I cannot bind you against your will. Certainly, once you are in my power, I exert a level of control over you, but actually _becoming_ my servant requires your consent. And even once you are mine, you retain a degree of independence. You _wanted_ this.” She reached a cum-covered hand out to him, grasping him by the chin and bringing him closer. Removing his mask with a flick of her wrist, the Witch lay her lips against the scarred mouth of the Swordsman, giving him a kiss colored by the salt of his own orgasm. Tasting it from her lips felt…oddly fitting.

She smiled, and for once, the Swordsman didn’t see anything ulterior in the gesture. He obligingly returned her grin with one of his own. They were still enemies. But they had an understanding of each other now.

Limbs wobbling, she unsteadily raised her hand and snapped her fingers. Her broom appeared in her grip, and she shakily rose and sat on it as it began to float.

“You will see me again. I will yet make you my closest ally.” The Witch blew him a kiss, and the Swordsman blushed.

“In the meantime, I look forward to the next time we may enjoy each other, Swordsman.”

With that, the Witch flew off into the night sky on her broom, still bare to the world and leaving a trail of his sexual fluids in her wake.

The Swordsman stood on sore legs, tucked himself into his gi, and set off for Adlersbrunn. His mission to the Witch’s woods may not have yielded the result he had expected, but he knew that it had turned out for the best.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed my work, you can find more of it at my tumblr (lewdsmokesoldier) or my Hentai Foundry page (also lewdsmokesoldier). Drop me a line if there's anything you'd like me to work on!


	2. Shack Seeking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After an amorous encounter with the Witch in the Black Forest, the Swordsman returns to Adlersbrunn to report his failure to his master. When his master unexpectedly advises him to seek the Witch out once again, the Swordsman may find her easier to track down than he expected, given her unusual abode.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With tumblr's NSFW purge, it seems all too fitting that I have a "lewd" and a "not-lewd" version of the story. Here's the more presentable one!  
> I've got a third chapter planned, but I'm gonna hold off on it for a bit since I have Gency week coming up, plus a holiday Gency story I want to do, so look forward to those.

The Swordsman had expected many reactions from his master upon his return from the Black Forest. Disappointment that he had failed in his quest to slay the Witch and that he had stooped so low as to have sex with her instead. Frustration that he had fallen into his old hedonistic habits. Embarrassment as to how his failure reflected on his master. What he was met with instead was far from what he had foreseen.

“I do not understand, Master.” Of course, he hadn’t lied to the Monk: during his journey back to Adlersbrunn he had resolved to tell the whole truth. If he hadn’t, his master would have been able to tell: the Swordsman wasn’t very good at hiding his true feelings, even behind a mask and full-body clothing.

“Did I stutter, my student?” If he could, the Monk would have raised a mechanical eyebrow. The tentacles on his face were static, but the Swordsman could imagine them curling into a facsimile of an incredulous expression. “Perhaps your hearing requires attention-”

The Swordsman raised his hand to cut his master off. “I do not intend any disrespect. But when I return from a mission to assassinate an enemy and openly admit that I instead had intercourse with her, I do not expect the response to be ‘Good for you, my student’.”

“Do you dispute that it _was_ good?” The Monk let out a mechanical chortle. “If so, that is unfortunate. I am under the impression that the Witch is very attractive, for a human. Perhaps her method leaves something to be desired?”

“No, I did not mean…it was fantastic, but-”

“Then I congratulate you! Should I inform the Lord that I wish to make a toast to honor this occasion?”

“I believe that would be unwise.”

“Hm, perhaps.” The Monk rolled one of his floating orbs between his fingers, watching the moonlight glimmer off of its many sides. “I imagine, however, that the Gunslinger would consider this highly amusing, and perhaps the Demon Hunter might as well. If they are not too busy with each other by this time of night, of course.”

His student threw up his hands in exasperation. “If you are playing a game with me, my master, I admit that I do not follow. I am also slightly frustrated.”

“Be at peace. I am not joking though I concede that your reaction has been highly amusing.” The Monk placed a hand on the Swordsman’s left shoulder. “What I intend to say is that while you did not carry out my original intent your actions may yet prove to be for the better. If the Witch could be turned from her path of darkness, think of how much suffering she could alleviate with her magic!”

“I…had not considered that.”

“And _that_ is why you are the student and _I_ am the teacher.” The Swordsman rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, letting out a surly grunt. “I only jest, I only jest. But in all seriousness, this may be helpful. Both for the wider interests of Adlersbrunn and the two of you individually. I recommend that you seek her out again and see what comes of it.”

“Are you implying that we had some manner of fleeting connection?”

“No, clearly you and her were connected for a great while longer.” The Swordsman coughed, cheeks reddening beneath his mask. His master could be crude in a way that belied his serene exterior and habit of speaking in metaphor. “And whatever happens, you should rest tonight, my student. With all the effort you exerted, I am honestly shocked that you made it here without collapsing.”

The Monk was right. Even as he listened, the Swordsmen felt his vision blurring and his limbs aching and knew that he had pushed himself past his breaking point this night. “You are correct, my master. I will bathe away the day’s dirt and sleep away my weariness. If I encounter the Witch again, it will not be tonight.” The warrior bowed.

“Have a pleasant evening, master.”

The Swordsman stepped into the castle in search of hot water, while his master chuckled to himself and followed apace. “I would hope not tonight, my student. Even with magical assistance, five orgasms in less than two hours cannot be healthy for a human body, although I doubt she is feeling any less sore than you must be.”

* * *

The sun had risen two more times since that fateful night. He wasn’t sure why, but the Swordsman knew that if he was to meet the Witch a second time, it would have to be tonight. So, following a muttered conversation with his master and a nod of farewell at the Gunslinger (who appeared to have spent the last two days dallying about near and in the Demon Hunter’s quarters and had only recently elected to leave the castle, albeit with great reluctance on the part of the two people involved), the Swordsman was off once again to traverse the Black Forest. He did not know what he was looking for, but he knew that his path would cross with the Witch’s once again.

He was already regretting that he’d chosen to leave as the sun began to set, rather than in the dark of night. Certainly, the sun falling down over the horizon cast gloriously defined shadows against the thin treebranches, but the glare also stung his eyes something fierce and flared off of his mask. If he wasn’t careful to block the sunset with his hat, he’d give away his position to anything with eyes that stalked these woods.

That was his primary concern, anyway. Until he heard the steady _thump, thump, thump_ of heavy footfalls. He froze, then melted behind a boulder away from where the sound was coming from. Bending over, the Swordsman placed his palm against the ground and felt the vibrations in the soil.

A slight drag, followed by a crunching and lifting sound and ending with a stabbing _thunk_ before repeating again. Whatever was making so much noise, it had claws: a bird’s talons, perhaps? He’d heard of the massive flightless birds that lived south of the land the Alchemist called “home”, but even the tales she’d described had never ascribed them the size needed to make such heavy footfalls.

He was about to cut his losses and head back to the Castle when he saw mist creeping through the trees. Its spread was unnaturally precise and targeted, as if directed by something intelligent.

Which it probably _was_ , the Swordsman realized. As the last vestiges of sunlight winked away over the mountains, the mist surged forward and enveloped him and the heavy walking sounds became muffled by the hiss of the low-lying fog before disappearing from his hearing entirely. The last time he’d seen such an unnatural haze, the Witch hadn’t been far behind. He was close. He had to be.

And if the mist had been heralded by the footfalls, then he knew where he had to start looking. Against his better judgement, the Swordsman stood up, careful not to touch the boulder, and crept in the direction he’d last heard the noises from.

He didn’t have to move far. As he ducked beneath a vine hanging between a split log and a nearby shrub and paused to see if anything had heard him, a shadow moved in the corner of his eye. Slowly, the Swordsman turned around and nearly yelped in shock.

He had been correct. The sound he’d heard _had_ been made by something with talons. Two massive, black bird’s legs thicker than most of the tree trunks he’d passed stood before him, stretching towards the sky more than three times his height. Three digits on the front and one in the back were each the size of his own body, tipped with talons as long as his _odachi._ While unexpected and unsettling, the Swordsman was far more surprised by what lay at the top of the legs.

Instead of a massive bird, the legs grew directly into, or perhaps from, a house. It wasn’t the largest dwelling he’d ever seen, given that he’d just left a castle, but it was larger than the typical one-family dwelling. There were four rows of windows with two at each level on the sides he could see, so he had to assume that there were four floors, but he’d spent enough time in the forest to know that appearances could be deceiving. The fact that he couldn’t see any shadows moving through the lights shining in the windows only confirmed his suspicions. He couldn’t trust his eyes to tell him the truth of the matter.

The Swordsman was no botanist, much less a dendrologist, so he couldn’t begin to guess what tree had been harvested to make the dark blue-black wood that constituted the house’s walls. It certainly hadn’t come from the Black Forest: as misleading as it was, most of trees were not literally black. The roof shingles glared in the sunset, giving off the appearance of sharpened obsidian.

The Swordsman had to admit that besides the massive bird legs holding up the house by its base and the walkway extending out into the open air, the house was not of unusual character. Certainly it was larger and more opulent than the usual woodland dwelling, but he sensed nothing inherently unnatural about its construction. It obeyed the laws of physics, geometry, and architecture, rather than flouting them with the magic it no doubt was maintained with. As he took a step towards it, the fading shadows seemed to form a face against the wood, with two windows as the eyes, two more as the nose, and the doorway as a mouth, but the image faded before he could be sure.

He took another step and froze as the massive bird legs turned towards him and brought the front of the house with them, searching for a solid grip in the grass as they shifted their angle. The Swordsman was deliberating his next move when the legs wobbled and began to lower themselves, folding down like a chicken at rest with a drawn-out creaking sound. Mouth agape beneath his mask, he watched the legs scrunch themselves up completely underneath the house until they fell from view as the dwelling came to rest on the forest floor. Now it _really_ passed for a regular, if extravagant cabin. If he hadn’t seen its legs earlier, he would have no cause to suspect its true origins.

And if it had lowered itself to his level, then he really didn’t have any other choice other than to head inside. The Swordsman might be misinterpreting a habit of the house as an invitation, but he couldn’t pass up this chance to see for himself what lay past its threshold.

* * *

He was lucky the door was open. Even for a man trained and experienced as he was in stealth, opening something with a rusty hinge was difficult without giving himself away. Even so, the Swordsman was careful to stay low and glance around the corner of the opening, careful not to touch the wood of the entryway before he was sure the coast was clear.

He scanned the first room. An elaborate black-glass chandelier with several unnaturally bright crystals scattered across it hung above the doorway and blanketed the room in a soft golden glow, a shade lighter than the orange-yellow carpeting on the dark planks of the floor. The hallway only extended in one direction in front of him, chandeliers spread at regular intervals along the ceiling in a pattern consistent with the doorways that lined both walls.

He chanced a step inside, careful to avoid touching the creaky wood, and didn’t immediately become afflicted with some horrible curse. No cruel machination sprung to life with a singular purpose. That was progress. Now he needed to decide what he was looking for and find it.

It was clear that the Witch had some hand in this: as he moved down the hallway, he recognized the symbol of her magic on the closed doors he passed. A circle with an arrow pointing upward above it, flanked by two wings. The Swordsman supposed that it made sense given that her most powerful magic revolved around raising the deceased in a cruel mockery of the cycle of life. He had survived a near-death experience, but he was glad that he had been healed through more conventional means. He had no desire to dabble in the dark arts.

Even as the idea entered his mind, he paused and amended his thought process. While he would never give himself over to black magic, he had to admit that the last time he’d been subjected to it at the hands of the Witch, the results had been…more than a little enjoyable. And his master was certainly no stranger to calling upon ethereal forces, but employed them benignly. Perhaps he should re-evaluate his opinion in a more relaxed setting.

For the moment the Swordsman advanced down the hall, his eyes on a new target. He had seen the slanted wood angling towards him at the end of the walkway that indicated that the hall doubled back into a stairway to the second floor, but his primary interest lay in the beam of light that extended from an open doorway to the right before the stairs. Padding along silently, he reached the doorway and leaned forward to peer around the edge.

As he suspected, the Witch _was_ here, leaning over an elaborate desk with multiple shelves, inkwells, candleholders and book ends. She’d shoved her plush chair to the side to better lean over whatever massive grimoire she was reading, taken from the bookshelf to the left that remained heavy with tomes. A red, glittering curtain blocked his view of the right side of the room, though the Swordsman suspected that it was connected to one of the rooms whose closed doors he had passed.

Most of the Witch’s accessories had been removed. The gold rings were no longer on her wrist, nor did she have a book buckled to her belt. Her wings were gone and in their place were two orange indentations that he assumed were where they connected to her body or clothing. Even her hat, gloves and boots were gone, the former resting on the corner of the chair to her left.

Even though she hadn’t actually taken off that much clothing, he was still taken aback by how exposed she was. With her legs and forearms exposed, she really was only wearing clothing on her midriff, chest and shoulders. And judging by what the Swordsman saw when the cloth covering her rear slid to the side as the Witch leaned over to peruse a particularly pertinent passage, she wasn’t wearing anything underneath, either.

He wasn’t ashamed at his arousal. Not only was he directly getting a view of two of her holes that he’d buried his shaft in not two days ago, but this point of view let him appreciate how her breasts hung low even as they were constrained by her corset, or how her backside stayed pert and deliciously grabbable framed against her shifted clothing.

The Swordsman didn’t know what about this woman made him feel this way, but he wanted her again. _Needed_ her again. And he wanted it to be on his own terms this time.

Unfortunately for him the carpet did not extend into the side room. If he wanted to enter, he would have to risk stepping on the wooden floor and potentially alerting her to his presence. But he had to take that risk. The longer he stood here with an erection, the more likely it was that he would give himself away. So he spread his toes and gently took a step onto the wood, and was rewarded with silence. Redistributing his weight had the desired effect.

Now he had two options. He could tense and leap the remaining distance, or glide silently across the floor. Both were representative of his training. In the spirit of challenging himself, he elected to move across the wood, moving painfully slowly and desperately hoping that she wouldn’t find cause to turn around. Every movement forward took an eternity, but he had yet to give himself away.

At long last, the Swordsman took the final step. He’d stopped breathing now, and his lungs were started to complain as he listened to her hum to herself while she flipped pages. He was so close to the Witch now that if he leaned forward he’d press his hat against her rear, now in line with it thanks to his lowered posture. It really was a gorgeous rear: he had some fond memories of groping, kneading, and slapping it. He expected this time to be just as enjoyable.

Now he was ready. It was time for the serpent, for the _dragon_ , to strike.

Without a sound, he raised himself to his full height and tossed his hat behind him. Before it could hit the ground, he thrust his body forward, pressing his chest against the Witch’s back and putting one hand on her belly, the second on her chin. Her yowl of shock was cut off as he leaned onto her shoulder and whispered in her ear.

“My turn.”

The Witch, for her part, had been expecting the Swordsman to return after their time together. She hadn’t anticipated him to slink directly up to her, in her own lair, and come back to her like _this_.

“I nearly turned you into a frog! What were you _thinking_ , sneaking up on a witch? Do you have no regard for your own safety?” She couldn’t hide the bewilderment in her voice, her tone rising to something resembling panic.

“Oh, you are concerned about my wellbeing? I am _touched_ , sorceress.” To emphasize just how touched he felt, the Swordsman moved his hand from her belly down and around the clothing covering her front, rubbing his finger against her slit. He felt her tense beneath his grip, and smiled beneath his mask.

“I only mean that turning you into a frog would be a terrible waste of…ah!…of a remarkable male specimen!” As she spoke, the Swordsman slipped a finger into her, gently rubbing her clit and throwing off her focus. “If you were made into an amphibian, the only solution, of course, would be to kiss you and make it better.”

“ _Only_ a kiss?” He teased, turning her head slightly so that her cheek was pressing against his face mask. She winced at the cold, and he moved the hand inside her to unfasten the mask and drop it to the floor.

“I am not going to suck off a frog, thank you very muc-MFF!” The Swordsman cut her off, then, inserting the finger that had been inside her into her mouth. The Witch hummed around his digit and sucked diligently, cleaning her arousal off of his finger, then letting it free with a pop.

“Feeling aggressive, are we? I suppose you have earned your fun.”

“I certainly have. But first, a little payback…” The Swordsman smirked and moved his hand back down to her slit, extending his index finger and slipping it back inside of her, relishing how she gasped and tightened around the intrusion. He began a slow rocking movement, keeping his finger still and simply pushing their bodies back and forth to stimulate her. As they shifted in front of her desk, he readjusted his pelvis to allow his erection greater freedom in its confines and ground it against her buttocks, letting it pillow his covered length and grind against him.

The Witch was beyond paying attention, grabbing at his legs and hair and pushing back against him when he rocked his body away from hers. It was time to pick up the pace. He inserted a second finger and smiled as she shuddered and tightened around him. Gliding his other hand to her right breast, he pulled down on the top, letting her chest fall free and catching her nipple in between the pinky and ring finger and squeezing.

“Swordsman…” The Witch let out a low, crooning whine and he could feel her jaw tense as she bit her lip. She didn’t need to say anything else. Emboldened, the Swordsman pawed at her breast, pinching and grasping the skin and her nipple with whatever he could get his digits on while digging the fingers on his other hand deeper into her, rolling his wrist to draw his nails along her walls. Thrusting his hips out forward, he felt her rear clap back against his covered groin and huffed through his nose. He’d be inside her yet.

With a growl, he furiously alternated between pawing at her breast and squeezing her nipples with his right hand, keeping his left occupied circling his fingers in and out of her. His hips shot forward and back and when he looked down her could see her backside ripple as it met the spot where his erection tented his clothing. It had been only two days, but he had been longing to behold her bare rear at his mercy.

The Swordsman kept grinding against her each time his covered shaft rubbed between her buttocks. He wouldn’t cum like this, but it certainly felt good to have her buttocks around him if only for fleeting moments. The Witch definitely enjoyed the contact if her repeated attempts to push back into him each time he withdrew were any indication. But he held her fast, working his dexterous fingers along her walls and wildly groping her chest, keeping control of the pace of her movement.

Her breaths got faster and heavier as her hips began to flail and gyrate in his grip. The Witch wasn’t just trying to feel his length against her rear: she was trying to fuck herself on his fingers, to drive his palm against her clit and ride out an orgasm on his hand. He wasn’t going to let her, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t let her cum. He just wouldn’t allow her to be in charge as she did so.

“Vile sorceress.” He whispered in her ear, but despite her actions he couldn’t bring himself to sound genuinely vengeful. She’d tormented an innocent community for years, and been party to all manner of vile rituals, malign phenomena and disasters. But at the moment, all the Swordsman wanted to do was make her cum on his command, knowing she was only doing it because _he_ was telling her it was permitted. “You are enjoying this, being under my control? Perhaps I should stop if this is not a punishment.”

“If you stop,” she began, voice hoarse and throaty as she struggled to force his fingers to keep working at her slit and breast, “I will make good on my threat to turn you into a newt.”

He smiled. “Frog, not newt. But I am loathe to torment you. it is not in my nature to take joy in harm, no matter how deserving the recipient. So…” The Swordsman leaned forward and nipped at the Witch’s ear, lightly grazing the cartilage with his teeth as he pressed his erection between her buttocks. He delighted in how the swell of her butt kept him from pushing forward fully: the Witch was certainly blessed with a sizable yet firm backside.

He withdrew his fingers slightly and took his hand off of her breast, and the Witch tensed beneath his frame. He took a breath and held himself completely still, feeling the Witch’s pulse beneath his fingers and against his chest. His own heartbeat throbbed in his ears as his length ached to be inside the woman in front of him. But he restrained himself and finally elected to end the Witch’s torment, and advance his own satisfaction. With a gasp he buried his fingers back inside of her, rubbing the base of his thumb against her clit while taking as much of her tit in his hand as he could and squeezing, running his fingers along the underside of her breast as he did so.

He didn’t need to say anything. The Witch obliged his unspoken verdict and came, crying out into the wooden walls of her home as her grip on the back of his head and his thigh tightened along with her walls convulsing around his intrusive digits. He encouraged her by latching his lips onto the side of her neck and sucking hard enough that he knew he’d leave a mark where everyone could see it. The Swordsman was no vampire, but still the sensation of her skin underneath his teeth was unexpectedly invigorating. He felt completely in control of her, and that was a powerful pleasure in and of itself. The Witch kicked her legs out into the desk in front of her, heedless of how her toes slammed into the wood with a dull _thud_. She’d have fallen over if he hadn’t been prepared for the shift in weight. The Swordsman’s view over her shoulder was replaced with a mess of blonde hair as she tilted her head towards him, pushing him off of her neck and spinning him so he fell back into her chair with a startled grunt.

He assumed she didn’t mean to almost knock him over, given how that would have been more than a little embarrassing for the both of them. As things were, he was now laying back in her chair with the Witch leaning back into him, riding out her orgasm on his fingers, her left hand now on her own breast to mirror his grip. He was glad that she had finally come: truth be told, his hands were starting to ache a bit from the flurry of his motions in her and on her. But he still hadn’t entered her and he intended to address that when she was in a state to respond.

The Witch adjusted herself so that she was sitting on his right thigh, cheek half-turned towards him, eyelids still fluttering. “That was…”

“Fantastic”? The Swordsman allowed himself a chuckle at her scowl. He was far from conceited but he liked playing up his talents when possible. He _was_ highly educated and well-trained, after all.

“I was going to say _perplexing_ , my Swordsman.” For a woman who had just been brought to squirming orgasm she was staying in control quite well, her flushed cheeks and the sweat beading her brow the only evidence on her face of her recent loss of control. “Last we spoke, we parted under the assumption that we would meet again. But while I recognized your approach and allowed your entry, I was expecting something less…”

She trailed off and made a circular motion with her fingers. The words escaped her.

“Lewd? Yes, lewd seems to be the right word. I was anticipating that you would want to talk rather than lay with me, although I will not pretend that what actually occurred was unwelcome.” She giggled and for a moment the Swordsman could pretend that she was just a regular village woman, rather than a mistress of vile and dangerous magicks. But he supposed that those weren’t mutually exclusive: she certainly enjoyed many of the same things “regular” women did from what he could gather of their experiences together. “I rather enjoyed it, as you no doubt can determine.”

The Witch raised a hand to grasp the Swordsman underneath his chin and look into his eyes. He remembered that this was only the second time she’d seen his face: the old burn scars scattered across his cheeks and jaw, crisscrossing with the deeper cicatrixes from the same incident or the shallower ones of later battles. He turned away.

“The question remains. _Why_ are you here, Swordsman? Why did you come to my lair?”

He remained silent. A memory flitted through his mind like a cloud on a clear day: beady, intelligent raven eyes staring down at him from treetops, relaying information to their master. Or, more notably, the absence of any such ravens tonight.

“You did not know I was coming. You carelessly left your abode open to any intruder, and it was only by chance that I entered when I did. You were unprepared for my incursion.” She opened her mouth to let out some further falsehood when he held up a hand and stopped her. “There were no birds outside. I was watchful. So unless you have some magical detection within your house, which would not surprise me given that I witnessed it _walking around on crow’s legs_ , why lie?”

The Witch bit her lip and let out a puff of air through her nostrils. He recognized that gesture: he did it himself when he was holding back a laugh or enduring frustration.

“You win, Swordsman. I did not know you were coming or that you had arrived and your entry to my home was undetected.”

“Then why mislead me?”

“Because, Swordsman, I would prefer others to believe that I am the omnipotent, omnipresent observer that the villagers seem to believe I am. It means I have to spend less energy on actually spying on everyone if they _think_ they are always being watched. Now, answer my question: why are you here?”

He gritted his teeth. He’d hope to stall for more time to think of a more satisfying answer than “sex”. He couldn’t.

“I came to find you.” The Witch crossed her arms underneath her chest and rolled her eyes, propping her breasts up. The Swordsman didn’t bother to disguise his stare, enjoying how her chest pillowed up above her forearms. If she didn’t want him to look, she could always cover them with her hands.

“To join me? I would expect you to wait longer before making that decision.”

“You are correct. I am not here to pledge myself to your service.”

“Then why come at all?”

“I do not know. Is that a satisfying answer?” The Swordsman was out of options. He couldn’t dodge her investigation any more without looking like a fool. She’d been too quick to admit to her lie. “I do not know why I came to find you, other than the fact that my master has some notion that you may be turned from your path. Truthfully, I am still not sure why I did not slay you when I had the chance, given how many have suffered at your hands. Whatever stayed my hand then and did so again today now frustrates me to no end.”

The Witch was silent for a long moment, fingers tapping her sides as she furrowed her brow and examined him. The Swordsman had no notion what she might be looking for, but he was too frustrated to care. The bitterness had overtaken his lust, and he found himself too distracted to properly appreciate how her naked thighs pressed against his covered length. Of course now that he _was_ thinking about it he could feel himself respond appropriately.

“You are forgetting something obvious, Swordsman. Given what your first course of action was, it is rather clear to me that you sought me out to seek a repeat of what happened when we first met. In which case…” She leaned back on his thigh, pressing against the arm of the chair to give him a profile view of her chest. With a wink, she tweaked her left breast, pushing it to the side so that it swung against her right tit and sent the two swaying hypnotically.

“What took you so long?”

He stiffened beneath her thigh and the Witch bit her lip as her gaze went down to where his erection must have been prodding bare skin. Crossing her legs over each other, she leaned her weight onto him and he groaned.

“Just like that? Are there not questions left to answer?” Even as he spoke, the Swordsman couldn’t help but move his hands back onto her, shifting her so that his shaft slid out of his clothing backwards and pressed against his stomach, pillowed by her buttocks.

“Are you really interested in questions at a time like this, Swordsman?” She punctuated her words by grinding and pressing her cheeks against his erection. The Swordsman couldn’t help but moan under the pressure she exerted every time she let her weight fall into the grinding and rolling motion against him. “We can clear everything up afterwards. How about fucking me first?”

His erection jumped and he felt a not-insignificant drop of preejaculate ooze out from the head of his shaft and roll down his length. The Witch giggled and squeezed her rear tighter around him: clearly, she had felt that.

“You enjoy tawdry words, I see. Well then, Swordsman,” she began, lifting herself up with one hand and navigating her other between her legs to pull his length forward between her thighs. With a sigh, she let herself fall back down, watching as the Swordsman stood up erect in front of her slit, the head jutting out towards her knees. She leaned back and whispered in his ear so softly that he wasn’t sure he’d heard her properly at first. “Fuck me.”

The Swordsman needed no further encouragement. He had no idea why, but hearing the Witch’s soft, sinister voice speak so lewdly had reminded him that, yes, he _had_ come here to fuck her. He just hadn’t wanted to admit it until he’d heard it from her. Though he still had concerns that needed to be addressed, he was just going to have to hold off on getting what he wanted to get what he needed.

A terrible burden, but one he was all too happy to bear.  With a grunt, he lifted her off of him with his right hand and grasped his base with his left, keeping it upright as he lowered her onto him.

The two of them groaned in unison and he leaned forward into the Witch’s shoulder as she leaned back into his chest. She was as tight and as hot as he remembered and the Swordsman slotted himself into her with a familiar friction, scraping against her walls gently as he filled her more and more. Shuffling forward so that his testicles hung off the front of the seat, he grabbed the bottom of her right thigh in one hand and her left buttock in his other, holding her steady as her nethers sank down onto him. From this angle, he couldn’t see her face, her tits, or where he was penetrating her, but he could enjoy her backside pressing against him and certainly hear every little moan and whine she let out as he wrapped the Witch around him.

At long last he hilted himself in her with a small clapping sound and let out a sigh, feeling her quiver and bear down on him, begging him to start pumping. Or maybe she was _actually_ saying that: the Swordsman was so focused on the impending ride that he wasn’t sure if she was voicing her desired to ride him, or if he was imagining it. It wouldn’t make a difference soon, anyway. Gripping her buttock and thigh tightly, he hoisted her up on his own strength, feeling her walls clench down on him as he withdrew, then snapping his hips up as he released his grip to meet her falling slit halfway with a _smack_. The Witch panted and squirmed, but he knew he’d have to do something different. The chair didn’t afford much movement.

Gripping her carefully on her stomach and thigh, he rose from the seat and carried her over to the hallway without letting himself slip out of her, then let himself fall backward onto the carpet. Before she could protest, he casually spun her around on his length so that she was facing him, then flipped over so that she was lying on her back on the carpet, face-to-face and slit-to-shaft with him, legs extending out behind him towards the wall.

The Witch opened her mouth, but he preempted whatever she was going to say by taking her lips in his own. Her eyes widened, but she didn’t protest, moaning into the kiss as he drew his hips back and began to fuck her in earnest.

The floor creaked under them as The Swordsman laid into her, withdrawing until only the tip remained inside before burying himself back into her, feeling her walls tighten around him each time he thrust forward. He alternated between kissing her and breathing heavily into her ear, letting his weight fall onto her whenever his testes clapped against her rear. He relied more on shifting his whole body into the thrusts, rather than just shoving his hips back and forth. By how the Witch was reacting, moaning obscenities into his ear when they weren’t kissing and crying out into his mouth when they were, he could tell it was working. This way, he had deeper and more fulfilling thrusts, even if they were slower and probably would make the Witch’s shoulders ache afterwards. It certainly felt better for him, too: her breasts pressed against his chest, jiggling as he moved, and he could feel the Witch tense up around the base of his length each time he hilted himself fully into her while feeling her walls drag against him as he withdrew or penetrated her. He was hard and fast, but not rough, not this time. He wanted this to be different from their first encounter in the woods.

He shuddered each time he felt his testicles smack against her rear, pressed as it was against the ground. He was getting close, and judging by her glassy eyes and the tightening intervals he’d felt around his length, the Swordsman knew the Witch was already riding the highest wave of pleasure she could experience. Now it was time to seal the deal. The Swordsman broke off a kiss to catch his breath, and immediately the Witch resumed blabbering at him.

“Fuck me, fuck me, keep _fucking_ me I--ah! Curse you, I...do not _dare_ stop!” He couldn’t deny the effect her words were having on him. He didn’t know how or why, but knowing that _he’d_ been able to do this to her on his own was heady in its own right. And he was close.

“I...in? Or out?” He stammered, feeling the tension and heat rise. He wouldn’t have a choice soon. By how her voice rattled and jumped, so would she.

“In! In! _Fill me_!”

Who was he to deny her? The Swordsman let himself loose, pressure exploding into a diffuse warmth as he creamed the Witch. He didn’t need to see his member to feel each wave of pleasure that heralded a spurt of his nut into her, blasting her with even more heat. The Witch wrapped her legs around him, pushing him even deeper for his final burst of cum, splattering her completely full.

His arms failed him then, tired from holding himself upright, and he fell bodily onto her, still buried in her slit. The Witch coughed as he lay against her chest, and he had the presence of mind to roll off of her so she could breathe. Her hair was tussled and her breaths heavy while her thighs and pelvis were red from his repeated thrusts against her. As he withdrew and lay on his side, facing her, he was pleased to see how little of his seed oozed out from her: he’d drilled it in deep. The Witch absentmindedly started to weave a spell in her hands, but he caught her by the wrist and stopped the channel. She quirked a tired eyebrow at him, but didn’t resist.

“No magic. Not this time. Just me. Just us, together.” The Swordsman emphasized the final word by tracing his finger along her jawbone, pulling her in for another kiss. She melted into it, closing her eyes to be left with nothing more than the sound of their lips meeting.

With a small gasp and a pop, she withdrew, a string of saliva connected their mouths for a moment before it snapped between them. “All right, Swordsman. We shall do it your way. This time.” She tapped her finger on the bridge of his nose in staccato rhythm, gazing off past him towards the room they had just stumbled out of. “But if this is going to become a regular occurence, there are some _fascinating_ spells I would love to try with you.”

“Is this going to become a regular thing, Witch? Are we just...going to forget about everything you have done?”

“Well, you all have tried to kill me multiple times.”

The Swordsman frowned. “That is hardly comparable. Some of what you have done…”

She raised her hands in a placating gesture, which was wholly unnecessary given that they were both flopped out on the floor, utterly helpless. “Peace, Swordsman. Truth be told, I tire of this life in the Black Forest. Terrorizing peasants and isolated, narcissistic lords is not terribly entertaining or helpful. My actions have been reduced to pranks: where I once held kingdoms in my sway and could starve entire populations with a single spell to spoil the corn crop, I instead spook teenagers attempting to carve their names into my trees. I have not made a serious magical breakthrough in years. Junkenstein is useful and brilliant, but beyond his inventions I keep contact with him to an absolute minimum. The Reaper despises me. Attacking the castle is a harmless formality at this point. Besides, you clearly profit from its occurence. What else would you do each October?”

“So I am supposed to forgive your crimes?”

“I do not deny them. You have had ample opportunity to punish them. Instead, you chose to fuck me. I am still curious as to why.”

He knew now, but he didn’t like the answer. The Swordsman had, long ago, been quite the womanizer, but that wasn’t part of why he had come to the decision he had. That had been before he met his master. Before he and his brother had gone their separate paths, worse for the wear in different and unequal ways. He could not blame the Witch’s magicks for their intrigue. The reason he’d sought the Witch out and had sex with her had been a long, long time coming, the culmination of years of small changes and stagnations.

“We are more similar than I originally believed. I too want something different. It has been...three years now that I have ventured here with my master, battling you at the same time every year. Even beyond that, the last three years have been the dullest of my life, though certainly the most peaceful.” The Swordsman raised himself up on his left elbow, supporting his head in his hand as he looked down at the Witch’s prone form. “Understand, I will not abandon my master. And, now that I have found him again, I will not abandon my brother, though I know not yet if he will accept my forgiveness. And there are other warriors out there who yet need my assistance. The Viking’s old warband seems to be coming back together, and I sense that I will play a part in their actions.”

He reached his right hand across and locked his fingers into hers. “But as I regained control of faculties during our first dalliance, I realized that, more than anything, I want to find more people to share these responsibilities with. As the world changes, so must my company. And if I can solve two problems at once, then I see no reason why I should not attempt this.” The Swordsman leaned forward and kissed her, long and deep, feeling her breath through her nostrils on his as he knew she felt his on hers.

Breaking away, he smiled down at her. “And I have reason to believe that you have changed. The repetitiveness of this place has softened you. The stories that were told about you are true, but they speak of a woman who has not existed for years. My master was right, in his own way. But I suspect I was not the catalyst for your development. Reduced opportunities ground away your sharp edges to make you the Witch you are today.”

A smile spread across the Witch’s features. “Are you asking me to join you on your travels? I have roots here, of both the literal and figurative kind. I cannot abandon them. Nor will I pretend to have fully reformed the way you believe I have.” Her smile faded and her lips pursed. “But mayhaps you are right. Perhaps the change that I seek will be found by helping you find yours. I will travel with you and your master, and anyone else who joins us."

His smile lit up. “I do not expect you to desert this place completely, even if you choose to journey with me. And next year, if you so decide, I can anticipate some...entertaining diversions when you inevitably attack Adlersbrunn.”

“Do you now? I may have some fresh ideas as well to test you all.” The Swordsman wrinkled his nose in response and couldn’t suppress a quip.

“...Perhaps someday you can be fully turned from the darkness…”

“Not likely.”

“...But I accept this for now. Though the others will take more time, and you should remain inconspicuous for a while until then.”

The Witch let out a clear, genuine laugh and the sound rolled through the room like a chime: high, sweet, and ringing, breaking through the gloom of the night outside to bring hope and joy. She smiled, snorted, and tucked some mussed hair behind her ear. “Difficult, with a walking house. Perhaps I will need to rely on my old trick.”

“A flying broomstick?”

“No, a flying mortar bowl. Long story.”

“Ah.”

“...”

“Is something the matter?”

“Swordsman, you ploughed me very thoroughly. I cannot feel my legs. The washroom is upstairs. Kindly transport the two of us there, and I may regain the use of my limbs.”

Stifling a chuckle, the Swordsman allowed himself to grin. This promised to be the start of something beautiful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed my work, you can find more of it at my tumblr (oh, wait, not anymore), [twitter](https://twitter.com/Lewdsmoke), or [ Hentai Foundry Page](http://www.hentai-foundry.com/user/Lewdsmokesoldier/profile%20rel=). Drop me a line if there's anything you'd like me to work on!


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